


well worth it down here

by aroceu



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Phantom of the Opera
Genre: Crack Crossover, Lowercase, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/aroceu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“no one,” said zuko, “no one understands us—”</p>
            </blockquote>





	well worth it down here

**Author's Note:**

> ... my finger slipped?

“no one,” said zuko, “no one understands us—”

“except for us,” said erik, and zuko looked down sadly and said, “yeah.”

“how’d you get here, anyways?” zuko asked. they were in a dark cellar beneath some building. there weren’t any lights.

erik waved a hand airily. “oh, i live down here,” he said.

“then what—how the hell did i get here?”

“i needed company,” said erik. “thought you might be good company.”

zuko stared at him. “while i’m flattered and all, there is a place i need to go back to—a whole country, really, to run.”

“i wish i had a country to run,” erik said wistfully.

zuko glanced at him through the firelight, which he’d lit earlier. “how long have you lived down here?” he decided to ask, instead; it seemed that erik had too many issues before sending zuko back (if he could, hopefully) and zuko supposed he could think about erik before tending to his own troubles.

erik shrugged. “a good three centuries, maybe?” he said, sticking the cigarette back in his mouth. it was a habit he’d picked up when smoking suddenly became “unhealthy” and people were dropping them in the cellar. erik didn’t have anything to worry about, though, having sold his soul to the devil shortly after christine had left him.

zuko’s eyes went wide. “you’re like another avatar,” he said.

erik blew out smoke. “another what?”

“another—you’re not a firebender, are you?” zuko narrowed his eyes.

erik shrugged. “well, lucifer gave me the power to conjure and control fire,” he said.

“what about water?”

“you think if i could control water, i would’ve gotten myself out of this place? i have to use a freakin’ boat!” erik indicated said boat.

“oh.” zuko hadn’t noticed it earlier.

erik sighed.

“yeah.”

“so,” said zuko, glancing at him. “continue with the scar story?” he felt weird sitting next to a three hundred year old something man (who looked like he was thirty, by the way) and himself being only seventeen.

erik stared at the burning end of his cigarette, and then threw it into the cellar water. it made a little plop. “yeah, born this way, parents didn’t want me,” he said. “sold to the circus, rescued and kept here under this opera house, fell in love with a girl, got ditched for a non-freak pretty boy, sold my soul to the devil, faked my death so the girl would come to see me again, got back up from my grave, and here i am.”

“… wow,” said zuko. “well, er. you’ve certainly lived. an interesting life.”

“it’s this damned scar! no one will ever understand!” erik wiped an imaginary tear (at least, he told himself such) from his eye. “no one will know the pain it causes.”

“there, there.” zuko awkwardly pat him on the back. “my, er, scar. at least you cover yours up. i never thought to do that.”

“i’m a coward,” said erik.

“no, no you’re not,” said zuko. “you just gotta embrace it as a part of who you are.” he stared thoughtfully into the dimly lit darkness. “my father gave me this scar,” he said. “as a punishment for speaking out of turn.”

“what a dick,” said erik.

“he was a king.”

“still a dick,” said erik.

zuko shrugged. “yeah, you’re right,” he said. “and it used to be just that, a scar. but now it’s a part of me. i’m proud to wear it.” and then he added, “it’s my honor.”

“bro,” said erik, clapping zuko’s shoulder, “you’ve got some great honor there if you’re wearing a hideous scar like mine with your head held high. i mean. i have no honor! i’ve been living down here for the majority of my life!”

“what are you afraid of?” zuko asked.

“just not being accepted i guess. laughed at.” erik shrugged.

“it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” zuko slipped off erik’s mask. his scar was on the left side, like zuko’s, and zuko liked that. “i mean,” said zuko. “i bet chicks would dig you. chicks dug me when i was like this.”

“they’re not  _going to_ ,” whined erik.

“just forget about the scar,” said zuko. “be yourself.”

*

so that was how they were above the sewers now, walking around paris, france and looking for girls that erik might like. or boys, as erik didn’t seem too opposed to the idea when zuko had suggested it to him. (zuko had known a few gay guys back home, so he didn’t discard the idea.)

zuko didn’t know where paris was, much less france. he didn’t even know what europe was, which surprised erik. “where are you from, anyways?” he asked. “i just asked the devil to get someone who could understand me to keep me company. he never told me where you came from, though.”

“oh, the fire nation,” said zuko.

erik raised both eyebrows, the ugly one and the unscarred one. “where’s that?”

“opposite of ba sing se, more towards the northern hemisphere,” zuko replied. “although i also have a place in republic city, since that’s where most of my friends live…”

erik blinked.

“clearly,” erik said, “you’re an alien. or something.”

“oh, look, there’s a cute girl,” said zuko, changing the subject. he pointed down the street. “do you think she’s cute?”

“she’s all right,” said erik.

“have you ever fallen in love with another girl aside from the one from before?” asked zuko.

“christine? no.” erik looked down at his shoes.

zuko pat him on the back. “you’ll get someone, buddy. just gotta find the right one.”

“yeah,” said erik, and sighed. looked around. “there’s another girl over there. i could try talking to her?”

“do it!” zuko encouraged, and the two of them approached the girl.

perhaps they hadn’t considered they’d spent a good few hours in a cellar next to sewers, because when they approached the girl, she crinkled her nose and gave the two of them looks. “may i help you?” she asked them.

“hi,” said erik, smiling as charmingly as he could. “um.” he glanced down her body. “you. um. have a nice skirt?”

it’d been ages since he last interacted with a real person (aside from zuko, who didn’t count since he was pretty weird too) and the girl said, “thanks,” like she was creeped out and walked away before erik could say anything further.

“i didn’t even get to ask her to dinner,” said erik.

“oh, erik,” said zuko. “i’m sure there’s someone out there for you.” and then, “if it makes you feel better, i could always set her skirt on fire.”

“no, it’s all right,” said erik, waving him off. “it  _is_  a nice skirt.”

*

“is it us?” asked erik after the eighth failure. “or is it them? i think it’s us, i’m pretty sure it’s us.”

“no, it’s them,” said zuko hurriedly. “they just don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

well, true, erik did look marginally more horrifying than zuko because zuko’s scar seemed, well, more two-dimensional? and erik’s looked like a dead person. and he wasn’t wearing his mask because zuko had coaxed him out of it before they’d left the cellar and now he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea.

a young man came up to them then and said, “oh my god, mate, nice scar!” 

“thanks,” said zuko.

“i wasn’t talking to you; i was talking to  _him_ ,” said the young man.

“oh,” said erik, surprised. “uh. thanks.”

“y’know who you remind me of?” said the young man. he leaned in close. “have you heard of the story of the phantom of the opera?”

zuko and erik glanced at each other. “no,” they said in unison.

the young man leaned in close. “they say that he lives under the opera house. a few centuries back, a buncha people died because of him, or something. urban legend though,” he said, pulling back. “well anyways, gotta go! keep the sick scar!”

“i’ll be sure to…” said erik, waving goodbye at him.

he turned to see zuko looking slightly peeved. erik smirked.

“you’re jealous?” he asked.

“no!” said zuko, and then muttered, “my scar is pretty cool too…”

“zuko, i think your scar is honorable,” said erik. and then, with a beam of more confidence, “and so is mine.”

*

so they didn’t find any women (or men) for erik, but they went back in the cellar with high spirits anyways. and erik said, “you know, i think i’ll stop wearing my mask from now on.”

“that’s the spirit!” said zuko.

erik lit some of the candles. zuko asked, “want me to help with that?” and erik said, “sure,” so the two of them lit up all the candles in erik’s cavern until it was shimmering and fiery and bright.

erik took a spare cigarette that he’d picked up on the streets earlier and lit it on one of the candles. “you’re good company, zuko,” he said, sitting down on the musty ground. “i’m glad that lucifer picked you.”

zuko hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. “thanks,” he said. “but i think i should get home soon. nation to take care of and all.”

“yeah,” said erik. “you should tell me all about it later. you’re definitely an alien, or something. or a time traveler,” he added thoughtfully: his head had been filled with theories like these after stealing books from the operahouse newly built library.

“later?” said zuko. “but, uh. i really should get going.”

“oh, c’mon,” said erik, patting the space next to him. “i’m a few centuries old and you could probably get sent back to the exact time when you came. what’s the rush?”

zuko contemplated, and decided that this wasn’t his world, so he couldn’t really have much of a say. “yeah,” he said, sitting down next to erik. and, well. there wasn’t any harm in staying any longer anyway.


End file.
